


a question of rank

by McEnchilada



Series: season 7 ricard fics (better title pending) [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Get Together, Late Night Conversations, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 13:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18447479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McEnchilada/pseuds/McEnchilada
Summary: The space pirates have been arrested, another crisis has been averted, and Captain Picard is back on his ship. But things aren't quite back to normal, yet.set after s7e4-5, "Gambit"





	a question of rank

Picard hesitated for a moment before the replicator in his quarters. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, consciously releasing some of the tension from his shoulders. After the events of the past week, he couldn’t quite believe he was back.

“Daren herbal tea blend number six. Hot.”

It was no earl grey, he reflected, as he savored the first sip. But Nella had had a point, about stimulants late at night. He suspected he would have trouble sleeping as it was, without adding caffeine. Fatigued though he was, he had a good deal to reflect on.

He was just sinking into an armchair with a weary groan, when his doorbell chimed. For an instant, he wanted to hurl his mug at the door--he was still legally dead, until the paperwork got cleared; surely he could ask to be left alone for five minutes! But being alive again meant being Captain Picard, and that had always meant that he placed his ship’s concerns over his own. He allowed himself another exasperated, exhausted groan while the door was still closed, and then called, “Come in.”

He was surprised to see that it was Riker occupying his doorway. They’d just seen each other a few minutes before, and neither of them were going to be on duty for another two rotations. “Yes, Number One? What is it?” _And why couldn’t it wait until I’ve had a chance to sleep?_

“Sorry for disturbing you, sir,” Riker said, without sounding especially apologetic. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the door he’d just stepped through. “Y’know, Data really did escort me to the brig. Then he said, ‘It is good to have you back aboard, commander. In light of the circumstances, I do not believe it is likely that Starfleet will choose to prosecute your actions with a court martial.’ And then he turned around and went right back to the bridge.”

Picard smiled. “Sometimes, I’m forced to wonder whether Data hasn’t got a better grip on delivering a joke than any of us.”

“Be that as it may, at least _my_ jokes rarely involve spending that much time in a turbolift. But that’s not what I came here to talk to you about.”

If Picard had to guess, he’d have said that Riker was nervous. It wasn’t an emotion that the commander often exhibited. In the face of peril, he was tense, but defiant; in less dire circumstances, he tended towards outward displays of annoyance, rather than anxiety. At the moment, he was rubbing the back of his neck, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and looking everywhere in the room except Picard’s face. From a man whose natural confidence normally took up even more room than his broad shoulders, the behavior was surprising, and rather worrisome. Picard frowned, and gestured for Riker to take a seat.

“Thanks.” Riker sat down in the chair across the coffee table, his hands laced together between his knees. He cleared his throat and began, “Well, sir, it’s about a...personal matter that’s been weighing on me. If I’m honest, I’m only bringing it up now because I’m afraid that Deanna will notice, and try to get me to talk to her about it.”

He’d said it with a chuckle, but Picard noticed that the smile failed to reach his eyes. He leaned forward, holding his tea in both hands; unconsciously mirroring Riker’s posture. “What is it, Will?”

Riker met his eye at last, and seemed to steel himself. His voice remained low, but there was a note of urgency in it. “Captain, when we thought you’d been killed, on Dessica II, I took it hard. Harder than was appropriate, actually; Deanna had to give me a talking to. I barely even remember getting back to the ship after Yranac told us you were dead. All that I could think about, all I could feel, was this anger. I knew I had to go after whoever had killed you, so I could make them pay. Nothing else mattered--not my orders, or the ship, or myself. I would’ve done anything that I had to, no matter what it took. I don’t think I ate or slept at all until....until I found you.”

It was touching, he supposed, how much Riker had been moved by his death, but Picard ignored the feeling. He was trying to work out what Riker was building to. Was he ashamed of how he’d conducted himself? Gently, Picard said, “Grief affects us all differently, often in ways we wouldn’t foresee. There’s nothing shameful in--”

“No, that’s not what I’m getting at,” Riker interrupted. He stood and paced a few steps, then turned abruptly back to Picard. “I’m in love with you.”

Time froze, the same way it had when Baran had pulled the trigger of the weapon which hadn’t killed him. His heart was the only thing in the world still moving, and it was like an old-fashioned jackhammer: too fast and too forceful and certain to break him into pieces. He could only stare into Riker’s intent blue eyes, while inside he shattered.

_I’m in love with you._

But that was impossible. Clearly, there had been a mistake.

“Will,” he said, setting down his tea and keeping his eyes on its wavering surface, “when we lose someone we care about, our emotions can often become...exaggerated. It’s a perfectly normal response to loss, but it doesn’t mean…”

“With all due respect, sir, I’ve lost people before,” snapped Riker. When Picard looked up at him, Riker appeared angry, with his hands in fists at his side. “I’ve lost commanders, and I’ve lost friends, and I’ve lost people I loved. I know which one of those this felt like. So don’t try to tell me I’m just blowing things out of proportion!”

Picard rose, to put them on more equal footing. His hands instinctively reached for the hem of his jacket, but he’d been without it since Nafir. He still wasn’t accustomed to how exposed he felt without it. “I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings,” he said, with as much diplomacy as possible. He met Riker’s eye levelly, keeping his expression open and neutral. “But this declaration seems to have been brought on rather suddenly.”

Riker smiled again; again, with everything but his eyes. At that moment, Data really might have given a better performance of humor. He turned his head, and bitterly remark, “The declaration, maybe. But I’ve been in love with you for years.”

It hit like a blow, a sledgehammer replacing the jackhammer behind Picard’s ribs. His artificial heart, so cunningly crafted, was reacting as flesh and blood would to the adrenaline in his system. He felt sweat at his throat and on his palms, and swallowed convulsively around the tightness in his throat. “Years?”

“Yes.” He seemed to take in Picard’s state of surprise. His stance relaxed some, from braced for confrontation to a precise military at-ease. “I’m sorry if that wasn’t something to wanted to hear from me.”

“No, it isn’t that. It’s…”

What was it, that caused such a strong reaction to Riker’s admission? Not mere surprise. Not even the nature of the surprise; he’d had other people confess romantic feelings for him, even others under his command. That Riker harbored such feelings, he wouldn’t have guessed, but the shock of it was already fading. The remaining element was just...Riker. His friend, and his faithful second in command. The man on whom he’d been able to depend for six years now.

“How many years?”

Riker’s face went pink. By the warmth of it, Picard was afraid his face had, as well. “If I’m honest, I think I had a crush on you from the beginning.”

“Ah.” An unhappy thought occurred to him. “Is that why you turned down the _Aries_?”

“Of course not,” said Riker, though his gaze shifted guiltily sideways.

Picard frowned. “You’re one of the best officers in Starfleet, and you would make an exemplary captain. There’s no first officer in the fleet who more deserves a command. I won’t allow you to sabotage your career because you…” His stern tone stuttered into uncertainty. “Just because you care for me.”

Riker’s hand came up to rub at the back of his neck again. “There _were_ other factors,” he insisted. “Though I admit I didn’t like the idea of leaving someone else to look after you, knowing all the trouble you get into.”

It was small, but it was a real smile. Picard found himself smiling back. The initial rush of tangled emotions was fading, leaving him even more tired than he’d been when Riker had appeared. If the conversation was winding down--if they were going to agree it was best not to bring this up again, and continue on as always--he could politely bid goodnight, and pray he’d be able to fall asleep.

Riker, however, wasn’t entirely finished. “Not that I’m always man enough for the job, either. Pretty sure I only got in your way on Baran’s ship.”

“That’s not true,” Picard disagreed immediately, without thinking. If nervousness was a rare emotion for Riker to display, self-deprecation was practically unheard of. The slump of his shoulders, the brittle edge in his voice; they were totally alien to the _Enterprise_ ’s first officer. “You were of enormous help to me. I really don’t know what I would have managed to do without you. The entire base on Calder II might have been destroyed! I needed your help, and I’m grateful to have had it. You must know how much I rely on you.”

There was a vulnerability in Riker’s face, as he listened to Picard’s assurance--which was, perhaps, delivered with more passion than he’d intended to convey. Riker’s eyes were so blue and so wide, his eyebrows raised questioningly. Had he ever looked at Picard like that before, with such open wonder? Was he always looking? He mouth was soft, almost slack. Could he possibly be surprised to hear how much Picard valued him?

“You can always count on me,” said Riker, after they’d stared at each other for the space of a few breaths--or what seemed like several hundred heartbeats. It would’ve been trite, had he not said it with the most steadfast sincerity.

Picard swallowed hard and looked away. His gaze landed on the mug of tea on the coffee table, and his mind followed it to the woman who’d provided the recipe. Nella had been brilliant and exciting, dancing around his expectations the same way her music danced around familiar melodies. When he’d been with her, there had been minutes at a time that he’d been able to forget his rank, and everything that accompanied it.

“Will, I can’t become _involved_ with someone under my command,” he said, in almost a whisper. His fingers twitched against the hem of his shirt again, to remind him of the uniform he wasn’t wearing.

Riker huffed a sigh. “I know that. That’s not why I’m telling you this.”

“Then why?”

“Because I thought I’d lost you.” He sounded helpless. Tonight was a night of firsts--anxiety, self-deprecation, and now the surest, strongest man Picard knew sounded completely defeated. “When I thought you were dead, it was like there was this gaping hole in my chest, tearing me apart. I kept thinking that I should have been able to save you, somehow. It didn’t make sense, but I was convinced I could’ve done more to help. And if it had been true, if you’d really...I would’ve spent the rest of my life regretting the fact that I wasn’t there. And I would’ve spent it regretting the fact that I never told you.”

“You sound like you were the one who had a near-death experience,” Picard joked weakly. He felt like gravity had increased tenfold. Leadenly, he turned away from Riker and walked to his desk, pressing both hands flat against the glass in an attempt to relieve some of the impossible weight on his weary shoulders.

“Kinda felt like it.” 

Picard closed his eyes, and heard Riker sigh again.

“Look, I didn’t come here expecting you to reciprocate. I just couldn’t keep on not saying anything about how I felt. But I’m not asking you for anything.”

Picard had never been a coward. When he was young, he’d gone out of his way to make sure everyone had known it. Then he’d been a reckless fool, convinced of his own invulnerability, but even as he’d aged, he hadn’t shied away from challenges. One didn’t become a Starfleet captain by avoiding the unknown or the frightening, and Jean-Luc Picard was one of the best captains at any helm in the quadrant. There was little that gave him pause, and even when it did, it was never for very long. He’d gone toe-to-toe against the Klingon High Council, Q, Romulans, Lwaxana Troi, the Borg...but here, now, facing no one but Will Riker, here he hesitated.

But not for very long.

He opened his eyes, but didn’t face Riker. He didn’t know how far his bravery could take him. “A part of me rather wishes you would.”

It was Riker who paused then, parsing what Picard meant, or perhaps waiting to have his interpretation corrected. He asked, uncertainly, “You want me to ask for…?”

Picard pinched the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted, or elated--he couldn’t decipher which. “I command a ship which holds a thousand people. I order them into warzones, get them tied up in diplomatic crises, and it seems that every week, some new engineering catastrophe threatens to make the whole thing implode. And I…” To his horror, he felt tears prickling his eyes. Exhausted, then. But he pressed on, “I hold myself apart from everyone that I can, because if I don’t, every other life on the ship may be in more danger than I’ve already brought them into. I cannot allow my judgement to be compromised by attachment to any one person. My position demands that I remain detached. The loneliness of one is vastly preferable to the endangerment of a thousand.

“And furthermore, how could I order someone into danger, if I cared for them? How could I face them risking their life, or ask them to accept me risking mine? Wouldn’t that be too much to ask of anyone?”

He took a deep breath, and turned around. Riker, it seemed, had moved a step closer, so they were within arm’s reach of each other. Neither was reaching. Not yet.

Picard fought to keep his voice steady, but he was sure he could hear it wavering anyway. “If I _could_ ever let myself become attached to someone we would have to trust each other completely. We would have to understand that the danger was what we both chose, and neither could ask the other to give it up. Because we would both know that what we do, on this ship, is bigger than any one person, and that the needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the one.”

“Sir--”

“And,” Picard continued, over Riker. His heart was pounding. He couldn’t think of another hammer to compare it too. He couldn’t think. “And, considering my position, I would need to be sure that the choice was theirs.”

Riker’s eyes were heartbreaking with hope. Picard could hardly stand to meet them, but it would have been even worse to look away. “You mean it?"

Another night, he might not have. Hell, if he was better rested, he might not have. There was so much he had to consider, as captain, so much that he had to be careful of and worried about and so much that he couldn’t allow himself.

But at that moment, he wasn’t the captain. At that moment, he was still legally dead.

“Well, then,” said Riker, seeing the answer in Picard’s face. “In that case, sir, I have a question for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Colin please note that I resent you _so much_ for this
> 
> The Kirk/Spock line was so cheesy & I'm so sorry, but I wrote this at one in the morning & I couldn't _not_ so I'm just going to say that, by this point in Star Trek history, Kirk & Spock's romance is the stuff of legend & there's definitely been at least a couple romcoms made about it, so Picard might've been intentionally referencing that. After all, a captain and his first officer...
> 
> Technically the end of the episode suggests that Riker is on duty that night, but it's been a busy couple of days & I like to pretend Starfleet would worry about its officers having time to recover from e.g. getting kidnapped


End file.
